Cut Here
by Lexie-Rae
Summary: A Nathan/Peyton story set in senior year. Following High Flyers, Nathan gets an offer from Oak Lake. He leaves Tree Hill and his past behind; save for one certain snarky blonde.
1. Chapter 1

_This kind of came from nowhere after listening to _Cut Here by The Cure _far too many times. It was written as a oneshot but I've split it into 7 sections to make it easier to read, I think. _

_I had a lot help with this one; I have to say a huge, huge thank you to Emma (Emmajoie) for reading this over, giving me pointers and assuring me that there was something here._

_And a massive great thank you to Kate (Peyt4Luke4eva) who spent many hours with me going over absolutely everything and making this the story that it now is. _

_So this one's for Emma who read it first, and for Kate who probably knows this story better than I do. Girly I appreciate your time more than I could ever say with words. The simplest way I can put it is; Thank you._

_..._

_I'll be doing my best and I'll see you soon…_

I bounce the basketball along the driveway in a casual manner; it's an action that's as natural as breathing to me. The rhythm's only lost when a pair of slender legs passes by my eye line. I shouldn't be stealing glances at my ex-girlfriend but Peyton's legs have always been distracting.

"Nate!" She scolds, striding past me and offering a whack to my head.

As I play ball, she's moving all of my possessions from my bedroom to my car ready for my move from Tree Hill to Oak Lake. Really I should be helping out but she'd only tell me off for doing it wrong.

"That's it, the last box." She blows her bangs out of her face. I have to double take sometimes, seeing her with straight hair, it suits her but I always loved her curls.

She puts a hand to her brow in an attempt to shield the bright summer sun from her eyes as she gazes in my direction, "Now you better like this new school because there is absolutely no way I'm moving your junk for a third time."

Her tone's threatening but I know, and secretly she knows, that if I asked to her help me move yet again she'd lend a hand. That's just the kind of person she is. After all she's done it twice already; first at the beginning of the summer when I moved from the apartment back to my parents and now once again as I move away to Oak Lake.

"You totally owe me." She says, hands on hips, "Pizza will be fine."

I snort, "This was a favour, you offered, remember?"

She shrugs her shoulders arrogantly, "I don't care. You are buying me pizza and you are spending your last night with me. It's the least you can do considering the fact that you're deserting me."

I cringe at her words even though she's just joking around. She notices me wincing and rushes to assure me that she's a big girl and can cope without me; she's not that needy. I still feel like the world's worst friend for bailing on her though.

Over the summer we've grown closer. I don't really know how it happened considering the fact that I've been at High Flyers and we've only shared a scattering of calls, a few letters and a bunch of e-mails. I guess that we've both been in similar places, dealing with complicated stuff with no one else to rant to.

It all started at the beginning of the summer; the night that Haley came back to Tree Hill and my Dad got caught in the fire at the dealership. Once I recovered from the shock of my wife returning and my Dad getting hurt, I headed out to clear my head.

I was walking along the beach feeling sorry for myself when I saw a figure hunched over on the sand. I recognised her loose curls and skinny frame immediately. And even though I'd headed to the beach with the intention of being on my own, something pulled me towards her.

I remember how she looked up at me with the saddest pair of eyes I've ever seen in my life. Instantly all of my problems melted away because I could see that she needed someone at that moment.

She explained to me about Ellie, a woman who'd turned up on her doorstep claiming to be her biological Mom. And later I told her of Haley's return as well as the dealership fire. They say that misery loves company and I guess in this instance they were right; we talked all night.

From then on, it's kind of just been me and her. Brooke's been away in California and Lucas has been spending his time with his recently returned best friend. She's the only one that I've been in contact with anyway and from the sound of it, she hasn't exactly been up for socialising.

At first it was all about Haley and Ellie; all anger, bitterness and hate, then I guess that got old and we started talking about anything and everything else. I never realised how alike we are until then. It's weird how well I got to know her in the three months I was away. I think I learnt more about her through those letters and late night conversations than I ever did when we were actually together.

"So what do you want to do tonight?" She asks, interrupting my thoughts.

"Something old school." I decide quickly, surprising myself, "Maybe we can pretend for one night like we're still sophomores; no crazy wives, no crazy moms."

She raises her eyebrows and laughs. I listen to her chuckle and watch as her eyes crease at the corners and her hair falls into her face, "We were dating back then. No crazy wives, no crazy moms but definitely a crazy relationship."

I shrug, "You can't say it wasn't fun."

Shaking her head she laughs further, "No, but I can say it was a lot of other stuff too."

I frown when I see her expression freeze and her eyes widen. She's staring at something behind me and I have a feeling I'm not going to like what I find there.

I turn slowly and meet a pair of watery chocolate brown eyes.

"Nathan. You're back." Her voice is soft and surprised.

I hang my head, realising that I probably should have checked in on Haley if only for the sake courtesy. "Um, not exactly."

"I don't understand." She says through a deep stare.

I glance to Peyton who urges me on with her eyes, "I'm leaving, Hales. Oak Lake offered me a place for senior year and I took them up on it. I think it'll be a good move for me."

She runs her fingers through her long hair and notices my loaded car for the first time, "Right, um, so you're leaving soon, huh?"

"Yeh, tonight actually." I reveal.

Her eyes pop in surprise, "So this is goodbye?'

"I guess it is." I sink my hands into my pockets and stare at the girl I fell in love with. She still looks the same, she _is _the same but I don't feel the same. Something changed over the summer after she left me for the tour. Now that I've finally seen her again, I realise what's changed. I don't love her anymore.

"Well," She wrings her hands and looks like she's about to reach out and hug me before she thinks better of it, "Good Luck, Nathan. I mean that, really."

"Yeah," I nod and try to ignore the tears in her eyes as she takes one last long look, "You too, Hales."

I watch as she walks away and feel the supportive hand of Peyton on my shoulder.

"You did good, Dude." She tells me, "I thought I might have lost you there for a minute."

I shake my head and smile at her mysterious mind, "No, it's over. If I wasn't sure before, I am now. Seeing her proved it, the spark or whatever it was, it's gone."

She raises her eyebrows but doesn't comment.

"I'm okay." I assure her, "I think I've known for a while."

Her eyes interrogate me for a second longer before she claps her hands together, "Right, well, if you're sure. Now how much longer do you have the honour of my company for?"

I look at my watch and figure that I can drive through the night, "We've got all evening."

She looks pleasantly surprised, "A lot can happen in the space of an evening."

I wag my eyebrows suggestively, "Sure can, do you remember that time at the beach house?"

She shakes her head, "Well we're sure as hell not doing that tonight!"

"You didn't complain before." I remark, cheekily.

She folds her arms over her chest and delivers her best scowl, "We're not having sex, Nathan."

I shrug, "Worth a try."

Her rose lips curve into a smirk and I'm sure she's thinking about us, just like I am. It feels like another lifetime ago and yet at the same time it could have been just yesterday.

"Stop it." She warns.

"What?" I question, throwing my arms out in a gesture of complete obliviousness.

"You're thinking about when we were together." She says in her knowing tone.

"So?" I ask, annoyed with the fact that she's reading me like a book right now whilst I have no idea what she's trying to tell me.

"Let me guess," She swings her feet, "You're remembering all the excitement, the jokes, the passion, the feeling, and the sex."

I shrug, "Yeah, what's the problem? Don't you ever think about that stuff?"

"Sure, but then I remember the fights, the break-ups, the screaming, the crying, the anger." She reels off.

"Yeah, yeah." I sigh, not wanting the trip down memory lane where I'm a Jackass, "Turned out alright though, didn't it?"

"I just don't want you getting any ideas." She explains, "But you're right, for once; we did come through it okay."

I smile smugly at being right, it doesn't happen often so I choose to relish in it while it lasts.

"Right." She says suddenly, jumping down from her perch on the breakfast bar, "We are wasting valuable time here whilst you bask in your glory. We've got one night."

She pauses and reaches for her purse, and I'm reminded that soon enough I'm not going to have her around.

"I got you something." She reveals, "Bear in mind that you gave me ridiculously short notice on this so don't moan if it's a crummy gift."

I don't care whether it's a rock she's brought me, the fact that she's bothered is thought enough. I scour my mind for something to give her even though I know that she'll see right through me and know that I didn't really get her anything.

"Here." She thrusts a package towards me.

I take it from her outstretched hand and turn it over before carefully pulling at the wrapping. From the corner of my eye I see her roll her eyes at how slowly I work at opening the gift. She's a tear-the-paper-apart kind of girl. I slip the box from the paper into my outstretched hand and laugh at the present of pens, paper and envelopes in emerald green.

"I didn't know what to get." She blushes slightly but I don't know why, "I just figured it's something useful."

"It's perfect." I tell her.

She gives me a watery smile, "I'm not going to cry."

"Don't be soft." I say, it's a tease but I don't want to see her upset.

"Sorry, Dude, you knew it was going to happen sometime." She shrugs, "I have to tell you some things before you leave."

I raise my eyebrows but restrain from mocking her further because I can tell that whatever she's about to say means something.

"Firstly," She smiles widely and throws me a deep stare, "I want you to know that I'm proud of you, and not just for your basketball, but everything. The way that you've grown in the past year, the fact that you're looking to the future, the way that you're handling Haley and how you've been such a great friend to me. If anything ever gets you down or you get pushed into a corner, always remember that you've got a fan in me and I'll always have your back."

She takes a breath and I stare at her, a little choked that she's telling me she's proud. To this point I've felt like I'm alone in this move away. Even my parents haven't been this supportive, neither of them have told me they're proud, they're too caught up in themselves for that. To hear someone say it, finally I feel that I might just be doing the right thing and I'm not doing on my own.

"If you ever need anything, know that you can call on me." She says in the most sincere of tones.

"Hey," I interrupt her speech, "Right back at you."

She smiles warmly, blinking through the tears, "Thank you. I really mean that, for being such a great friend recently. Brooke's been working her way through the males on the West Coast and trying to wrap her head around Luke; he's been tied up with Haley and you've been the only one I've really been able to talk to. I don't want to lose that, no matter how far away we get from one another."

"You won't." I confirm, "And hey, I'm not going that far. I'm always on the end of the phone and you can come see me whenever you like."

"I was hoping you'd say that." She grins. "Now please, don't get married again before you graduate at least."

She laughs, and I do too. If anyone else had said it I'm sure I wouldn't have found it funny but I know that she's just looking out for me.

She pauses and I feel the shift in her mood, from amusement to a pang of sadness, "I'm going to miss you so bad."

"Come here, Sawyer." I wrap my arms around her slight frame and she holds me like she's never going to let me go.

I know that in a matter of hours I'm going to have to say goodbye to the only friend I have left. Until then, she can cling to me all she likes and I'll hold her right back.

_And over my shoulder as I walk away, I see you give that look goodbye…_

I glance into my rear-view mirror and all I can see is her. Her short hair blowing in the soft wind; her hand waving madly; her lips forcing a smile; her eyes meeting mine; and her tear stained cheeks.

I left Tree Hill over an hour ago but every time I look behind me, all I see is her defeated silhouette filling the mirror. Every part of me was screaming to get out and give her one last squeeze, one last assurance that everything would be okay, one last goodbye but I knew that it would only be a never-ending cycle. It would never feel right leaving her behind with all the ghosts and demons and bad memories.

I switch on the radio, hoping that the company of music or a DJ will take my mind from Peyton. As soon as the speakers spark to life I realise what a mistake I've made. Every song, every station and every host leads me back to her; music always has been and always will be hers, in the same way that basketball will be mine.

The roads are quiet which I expected considering the time of night, it's dark and I'm engulfed by the nothing surrounding me. It seems kind of fitting.

My trance continues until I arrive in Oak Lake; it's so deep that I don't remember reaching the town. In fact I only realise where I am when the scenery around me changes from the monotonous highway to the leafy suburbs of the place that's now home.

_I'm on call, to be there…_

The sound of my phone rouses me from my sleep; I reach for my cell which is on the bedside table and smile when I note the caller ID. I haven't been in Oak Lake all that long but it feels that way, I guess you could say that I miss Tree Hill.

"Sawyer, hi." I say into the receiver as I answer.

"Hey." It's all slow and sad, the way she says that one word.

"What's up?" I ask, pulling myself into a seated position and trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. I know from the few short phone calls and the e-mails we've traded since I left, that she's got a lot going on and I want to give her my full attention.

She hesitates, "I'm sorry, it's late, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't." I lie, "It's good to hear from you, it's been a while."

"Yeah." She sighs and I realise that it probably sounds like I'm accusing her of not keeping in touch or something.

"I know you've been busy, I have too." Another lie. "So, what am I missing in Tree Hill?"

"A whole load of drama, like usual." There's the slightest hint of bitter laughter to her voice, "Lucas is chasing after Brooke but she wants to be non-exclusive; secretly Brooke wants to be with Luke but won't admit it; Haley's hanging around like a bad smell and she's moved into the apartment with Brooke so it's not as though I can drop in and see her whenever I like unless I want a confrontation with Haley."

"Hey, you don't have to hate Haley for me." I say firmly, "You shouldn't have to lose out on seeing Brooke just because she's there."

"I don't hate her for you, well not just for you. I just don't like what she did." Peyton huffs, "She's waltzed back like she didn't do anything wrong and I just don't like it."

"Fair enough." I say, not wanting to get her any more riled up about Haley. "But what's going on with you?"

"I wish I knew." And in typical Peyton fashion she clams up.

"Maybe I can help?" I propose, hoping that she'll use the shoulder I'm offering.

"Mmm." She can be damn stubborn when she wants to be, I think to myself.

"Try me."

I can't see her but I know that her lips are twisting into a reluctant smile, "Well you asked for it."

I smirk, "Do your worst."

She heaves a sigh before delving into her emotions, "So, this Ellie thing? On principal I should hate her; she gave me up and never really looked back because she liked drugs more than me."

She stops and I can tell that how much it hurts her to know she was rejected by her own mother before she was even given a chance. Anyone would be bitter about it, naturally, but given Peyton's complex about people always leaving, it's no wonder that she's so upset by the whole thing.

"Peyton," I say her name in drawn out way, like I'm scolding her but I'm actually concerned.

"I know, I know." She sniffs loudly, "So there's all that but she's got cancer and this could be my last chance to find out who I am, even though I thought I already knew who I was. How mixed up do I sound?"

She pauses to laugh, but to me there's nothing funny.

Sighing, she continues, "I want to find stuff out but I don't want to lose anything I already have. Like I found out that Ellie's really into music and I always thought that I got that from my Mom; Anna, that is. I don't want to find out any more things that I thought were my Mom's only to find out that I got them from this complete stranger instead."

"That's some heavy stuff." I remark, not very helpfully.

I'm pretty sure she's rolling her glassy eyes right now, "But what do I do, Nate?"

"Maybe you should talk to Ellie." I propose, "Tell her exactly what you told me. It's probably best just to be honest with her."

"I guess." She says, thinking it over.

"Peyton, it's not wrong to want to know about her, you're entitled to that." I tell her, "And it sounds like you might not get another chance."

I hear her suck in a breath, "What if I find out that I'm like her?"

"Then she must be a pretty awesome person underneath it all, for you to be anything alike." I shrug.

She laughs and relief floods me, "Thanks for listening to my crazy ramblings."

"Not a problem, you can call me whenever, okay?" I tell her.

"You might live to regret that offer." She warns.

"Never." I assure her, "What are you doing up so late anyway?"

"Masquerade party," She reveals, "You're actually talking to an Angel of Death right now."

"Comforting." I say dryly, and wonder if her humour's rubbing off on me.

"So I might actually take your advice and go talk to Ellie, I could do with some fresh air." She hints at me to get off the phone.

"Okay, well good luck." I wish her.

After she hangs up I find myself wide awake. My mind's whirring with the thought of her going to face Ellie. I can tell from hearing her voice that she's worried, and that in turn makes me worried.

I wish that I wasn't stuck here in Oak Lake, I want to be there with her so that she doesn't have to do this on her own. I want to _do _something to make this easier for her, but the most I can do is lie here and panic.

There's a split second when I think of calling Brooke or Lucas. I haven't spoken to either of them in a long time but for the sake of Peyton I'm willing to consider it. I shoot down the idea though; I figure that there's a reason that she hasn't opened up to them and it'll do me no favours to spill her secrets. If there's one thing I'm going to hold onto it's the fact that at least she's talking to someone about this, albeit that person is in a different town and is helpless to support her.

So I do all I can do and spend the night wracked with dread and guilt as she faces her demons alone.


	2. Chapter 2

_If you're lost and you look then you will find me, time after time…_

Oak Lake, it's not so bad. It's nice to be in a town where not everyone knows your name. It's nice to be in a school where people who don't know you don't hate you because of who you are. And it's nice to be on the court without the expectations of your father resting heavily on your head. Yet as nice as it is, there's something missing.

I do everything by routine, I get up, go to school, go to practise, do my homework, workout; every day's the same. My grades are up and I'm playing better than I can ever remember but it doesn't quite feel right. And now I know why; I'm lonely.

I never thought those words would be coming from my mouth. Nathan Scott doesn't do vulnerable, weak, needy. But here I am in my apartment before the first game of the season, just wishing that I had someone to share this with. With the Ravens I always had the whole school - the whole town even - rallied behind me. No matter how much people disliked my attitude and thought I was a conceited ass, they all cheered me on because I _was_ the team. Now I'm just the new kid.

I sigh and grab my holdall and car keys to head for the gym. I need to get my game face on; feeling sorry for myself is in no way going to help me play well tonight.

As I drive I focus on the weaknesses of the opposition, and every intricate detail of the training I had at High Flyers. This is my first game with my new team and first impressions count. I can't help but remember Lucas in his first game. I used to laugh at the way he choked but now it just brings a feeling of dread to the pit of my stomach.

Oak Lake has got a good reputation as one of the best teams in the area and if I don't play well I can basically kiss away my hopes of getting a regular game. The coach isn't soft like Whitey; he's not all about good guys and second chances. This is basketball not a playground game.

I'm reminded of this fact in the locker room when our pep speech is delivered. I feel eyes on me and so I raise my gaze to meet them; the faces of the guys who have been benched tonight. They're the ones that want my spot on the team, the ones I am going to have to outplay to get to Duke. The coach lays a hand on my shoulder before we enter the gym, kind of like a warning rather than any kind of gesture of comfort.

The hall erupts when we enter; apparently Tree Hill isn't the only basketball mad town around here. It's odd to look out into the crowd and see an ocean of green. I look down at my jersey of matching olive and gulp down any feelings of fear. That's the trick with sports; even if you're afraid or nervous, you cannot let them know that. It's not all about talent and skill; it's about attitude and confidence too. I stand up tall and throw my most arrogant look to the opposing team. I feel everything flood back to me as I think of all the times I brought it home for the Ravens. I know exactly what I need to do here. It's called Stepping Up.

I keep my focus completely on the game I'm about to play, even as the cheerleaders perform. If I were back in Tree Hill maybe it would distract me but I don't even steal a glance.

We take to the court and just as the whistle's about to be blown I see the door at the far end slip open and a familiar leggy blonde enter the room. She sees me staring and offers me a wide grin before melting into the sea of green.

The whistle goes and instantly I'm on the attack. All thoughts of loneliness and doubt have disappeared and not because of any of my game plan tactics. Sometimes you don't need a whole town behind you, not even a whole school or small group of friends. Sometimes, all you need is one.

_And if you have a moment why do we go, talk about it somewhere only we know…_

We win the game easily and I secure my place on the team. The crowd cheers and the team share some high fives as we bask in the glory of our victory. I'm congratulating our Small Forward when her hands wrap around my neck from behind.

"Dude, you were awesome!" She compliments after Mike leaves for the showers.

"I was terrified!" I admit through relieved laughter.

She smiles widely, "Could've fooled me. Seriously, you were great tonight, Nate."

"Thanks." I graciously accept the praise, "What are you doing here though?"

"What do you think I'm doing here?" She rolls her eyes in a typical Peyton fashion, "Come on, hit the showers, I'm hungry."

I snort at her forward, pushy manner but comply, stealing a glance her way as I go.

Knowing that she's waiting, I have the quickest of showers and join her out in the lot where she's waiting in her car. I jump in and a strange déjà vu falls over me. She tears out of the lot at break-neck speed just like always and it causes me to smirk for some reason.

"Aren't the Ravens playing tonight?" I ask her, trying to rack my brains for their schedule.

Her face blanches slightly, before she covers her surprise with a well practised mask, "Yes, but I had some more important cheering to do tonight."

I feel a heat in my cheeks and turn away, "Thanks for coming, Sawyer."

"Are you kidding me?" She cries out, "I wasn't going to miss this, besides; I want to see your sweet new pad."

"You and every girl in this town." I shrug arrogantly and she bursts into a smatter of laughter.

"I've missed this." She says in a small voice.

My head snaps back to her, and I frown not understanding quite what she's talking about because I can't remember us ever driving about and talking. "What's _this _exactly?"

She twists her lips into a pout, "Just us hanging out. I miss spending time with you."

"Of course you do, who wouldn't miss me?" I ask smugly.

Her emerald eyes revolve for a second time as she comes to a stop at the lights.

I bump my fist against her shoulder, "Hey, don't be jealous, I miss you too."

"Really?" She narrows her eyes at me, as though she doesn't quite believe me.

I roll my shoulders, and a sharp remark comes to mind but I hold my tongue due to the deep searching look she's giving me, "I do."

The lights change from red to green but still she stares, an unsure, lop-sided smile across her lips.

"Sawyer?" I nod towards the lights in an effort to shake her out of her daydream.

"Right." She hits the gas, hard, as only Peyton can do and we sail over the crossing before nearly missing the turning to my street.

I watch her without realising that I'm doing it. I note her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she reverses into a parking space. I smirk at the stray strand of hair that always falls into her eye line no matter how many times she tucks it behind her ear. I see the way her delicate fingers caress the steering wheel as though her car's a cherished pet. And I notice the lace of her beaten Chuck Taylors trailing below the brake pedal.

I manage to catch myself before I get lost in her eyes, and silently wonder to myself just how much I miss the blonde sitting beside me. The blonde that I argued with on a daily basis back when we were dating and the same blonde that mesmerises me every time I see her, speak to her and think of her.

"Are you coming?" She asks, getting out of the car and grabbing a holdall that I guess means she's staying the night.

_And I will try to fix you…_

It's taken me about an hour longer than it should have done due to the fact that I got hideously lost on the way, but finally I'm here. The Meadow.

She didn't exactly ask me to come, she didn't even hint at the idea of me joining her but I did anyway. She probably wants to be alone, she'll have all of her walls up and it's likely she'll tell me to leave her by herself when she sees me but I'm here all the same.

Since she called up with the news that Ellie had died I haven't stopped worrying about her. Her voice sounded so fragile and broken, so unlike Peyton.

_I'm just sitting down to dinner when my cell starts ringing. It could be one of the guys or my Mom but most likely it's Peyton as she's the only one who really calls me these days. It's for that reason alone that I get up and check._

"_Peyton, hey." I answer when I see that my assumption is right._

_I can hear the shudder in her breath as she goes to reply, "Nathan?"_

"_Yeah, I'm here, I'm listening." I tell her quickly. Instantly I know that something's wrong, even though she's only said that one word. My heart's hammering as I think of what could have happened to make her so upset._

_There's a muffled sound at the end of the line followed by a choked sob, like she's tried to answer but her cries have engulfed her._

"_It's okay." I say as gently as I can, "Just tell me, are you alright?"_

_Instinctively I reach for my keys and begin mentally calculating how long it would take me to get to her._

"_Where are you?" I question, "I'll come meet you."_

"_I'm okay." She whispers. "You don't need to come."_

_I hesitate in my rush to the door, "What's happened, Peyton?"_

_She takes her time to catch her breath, "Ellie."_

_I wince at that one word. In the past few weeks Peyton's been getting to know her Mom, they've even been working on a benefit record and concert together. There's just been one area that they've struggled with; Ellie's cancer. I know that Peyton's been concerned about her health but it seems to me that Ellie, like her daughter, is good at putting up walls. _

_There's dread in my stomach as I wait for her to expand on her answer. I fear the worst, knowing what it will do to Peyton._

"_She's gone, Nate." The words are strangled and forced. It crushes me to hear her in such a state, especially when I'm this far away from her._

"_Peyton, I'm sorry." _

"_Nathan, could you-" She pauses._

"_Anything you need, Sawyer." I tell her in a sure tone._

_She sniffs again, "Could you just stay on the phone a while?"_

"_I can come down, if you want me to." I offer again._

"_No, really." Something in her voice tells me that she does want to be left alone, "I don't think I'm up for seeing anyone, I just, well, it's nice to hear your voice."_

"_I'll be right here then." I commit._

It was during those few hours that she told me about her plans to come here to the Meadow and scatter the ashes. Somewhere between the tears and the sobs at least.

I glance to her now; she's crouched down in the centre of the vast space, whispering into the wind. I can't help thinking that she just looks broken.

I wait for her to say goodbye, not getting out of my car until she goes to leave, I don't want to intrude on any kind of grieving process. She rises from the floor but she doesn't quite seem her full height, like something's keeping her from holding her head up high. I see her heave a shaky breath and bring her hands to her face in a complete show of devastation. It's enough for me to forget whatever polite protocol I'm following and run to her.

There's no look of surprise, no shock and no questioning. She just falls into my arms and clings to me as though her life depends on it. I stroke her hair and repeat to her that everything's going to be okay whilst she soaks my shirt.

Slowly her sobs subside and she raises her halo of golden hair, a set of wide emerald eyes fall on me; pouring with sadness, "Thank you.'

"Don't mention it." I tell her.

She shakes her head slowly, "How did you know where to come?"

"I looked it up, don't worry about that." I'm more concerned about her than anything else, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's not much to say." She shrugs, "I just want her back."

I sigh, it's about the only thing I can't do for her; the thing that she wants most in the world.

"I want to be strong and do all the things that she told me to do; to go out and enjoy life, have fun and laugh so hard I cry, but I can't right now." She tells me sadly.

"It'll come, you just need time." I explain softly, "She sounds like a smart woman though, Ellie."

"She was," She attempts a smile, "She was smart and brave and funny."

I pull her closer and she closes her eyes momentarily, her brow creasing as she does so. It looks as though she's finding the courage to pull up the memories that still feel raw and painful.

"I think you would have liked her, Nate. She was a rebel; she liked taking chances and trying new things." There's such warmth in her voice, such pride and adoration.

"I'm sure I would," I offer a smile, "I have a soft spot for rebels."

Her expression softens slightly, "Her heart was in the right place though; she was honest and passionate, kind and insightful. She taught me about the world, she experienced so much and she had no regrets."

I give her shoulder a quick squeeze as she blinks back the tears, "No regrets."

She nods back at me, "She was so strong too, even with the cancer, she just took every hit and in the end I think she was at peace with it. She was amazing, Nate."

I grin because although Peyton can't see it, it seems to me that she inherited a lot from Ellie, "She sounds amazing."

Her gaze falls to the floor, "I just want to make her proud. I'm here because of her, she didn't have to have me but she did and now she's taught me all about living, like really living, I hope I can measure up."

"I think you already are." I assure her.

A spark of relief ignites her features, "I needed to hear someone say that."

_And you hold me, like you'll never let me go…_

It's the weekend of the Classic and honestly I've never been so eager about a tournament. This time it has nothing to do with basketball though.

I have to refrain from running from the bus to the hotel; I'm just desperate to see her. The last time I was with Peyton we scattered her Mom's ashes, so it's fair to say I'm worried about her.

I enter the hotel with the team who are shouting and jesting so I'm surprised when the hunched figure across the room doesn't so much as flinch when we invade reception. I break away from the group to go and investigate. She's the absolute picture of sadness and I wonder madly why it is that they've all deserted her when clearly she's broken hearted. Her head's bowed and her eyes are fixed on a well-thumbed photograph.

I approach her slowly, hoping not to startle her but I do anyway.

She clutches a hand to her chest and then sighs in relief when she sees that it's me. She offers a smile but I know that it's forced, her eyes are glittering with unshed tears and her shoulders are slumped.

I slip down onto the floor beside her and throw an awkward arm around her back.

"I'm sorry." She whispers. It doesn't sound like her, not the Peyton that I know, this is the open, walls down version of her. As much as it pains me to see her hurting, it's good to see that she's letting people in.

"Don't be sorry." I tell her forcibly, "Just let it out if that's what you need to do."

She nods gratefully and runs a finger beneath her eyelids in an attempt to ward off any tears. "I should be back in the hall to rehearse."

"There's no hurry." I remind her. Some things are more important than cheerleading.

"I haven't even said hello!" She gushes, "What is wrong with me?"

"It's fine, I understand." I assure her.

She grins, "Hi Nathan, it's really, really good to see you."

"Back at you, Sawyer." I tell her and she brightens somewhat. We fold into a hug and then take a moment to study one another, as though we might have changed during our time apart.

"I want to hear all about what's going on with you later." She tells me, "Are you free tonight? We should catch up."

"Definitely." I say readily, "I'm there."

"P. Sawyer?" Brooke's familiar voice rings through the room, her worried hazel eyes scouring every corner in search of her broken friend.

I wave her over and a small relieved smile flies to her lips.

"Nathan." She nods in my direction but her eyes are focussed on Peyton. "Break's over, Sweetie."

Brooke keeps her eyes on her friend and I feel the slight bite of friction in the air. I can't say that I didn't expect it; Peyton's told me how much closer Brooke and Haley have become in the past few months. I guess the guy who skipped out on your roommate isn't going to be someone you share small talk with.

"Sorry, Brooke." Peyton lifts to her feet and looks back at me, holding her gaze for a moment longer than usual, "I'll see you later then?"

"Yeah, call me." I tell her.

She nods and I hear Brooke asking her if she's okay as they walk away. I watch them until they reach the double doors and just as they're about to disappear into the corridor, Brooke turns around. She offers me a smile from across the room and I know that it's her way of saying thank you for looking out for Peyton.

I return the gesture.

_Hands down this is the best day I can ever remember…_

She's giggling; a waterfall of sweet laughter tumbling from her parted pink lips and filling my drab hotel room with the kind of happy high I haven't felt in a long time. We've been hanging out all evening and I can say without hesitation that it's the most fun I've had in a long, long time. Her company is addictive and I don't want tomorrow to come; for the Classic to be over, for her to go back to Tree Hill and me to return to Oak Lake.

"Another drink?" She proposes, shaking the bottle of Tequila in front of me. Not waiting for an answer, she unscrews the cap and pours two heavy measures. She's surprisingly accurate considering the amount she's drunk to this point. "Ready?"

I nod and pass her a slice of lime before pouring some salt onto my clenched hand; she then copies my action and smirks my way.

"3, 2, 1." She counts down and we sink our drinks.

She smacks her lips together in a satisfied manner and helps herself to a second slice of lime, "Good thing I grabbed this bottle when I left my room, Rachel will get mad and we get drunk; win, win."

"Haven't you got a routine to perform in the morning?" I gently remind her.

She shrugs, throwing more attitude into a simple rolling of her shoulders than I thought possible, "What does it really matter?"

It's a fair question, what is the point of a cheer leading competition? Can't say that I know but I do know what she needs to hear, "Maybe it doesn't matter in the long run but I know that you'll perform tomorrow because you don't let your friends down and you said yourself that Ellie thought you made a pretty great cheerleader and she wouldn't like to see you give up."

"You know me too well." She sighs, "I miss having you around, you know?"

"Trust me, I know." I say sincerely, "You've always been there when I needed someone and it sucks that I live so far away now."

"Sure does." She nods and shuffles closer to me on the bed. Her eyes are hooded and I can see that she's thinking hard.

I drift away as well, thinking about a future that's not yet paved.

"_And the stars are crying out for what we could have had." _Her voice is soft and melodic. I can't remember her ever singing before but she has a nice voice.

"What's that?" I ask cautiously.

She looks shocked that I heard her sing, "Were we horrible together?"

I arch my brow, "Um,"

"Because I miss you so much, like to the point that I don't understand it." Her brilliant eyes roll towards me, "It seems crazy but makes the most perfect sense."

"So it's not just me then?" I muster.

She swings her legs round to the floor and turns her back on me, "I'm drunk."

"Peyton," I reach out and touch her arm.

She turns her head, a curtain of hair falls across her face, just a peek of her eye visible. Her gaze is heavy and conflicted, "Can we pretend for a second that we're not us?"

I frown and she swivels round and leans in towards me, brushing her smooth parted lips against mine.

I reach for her and welcome a kiss. It feels right; it feels better than right; like all the heartache, confusion and turmoil has brought us here. We had to go there to come back; we had to have time away from one another, to be with other people, to grow and change, to become two people who fit together perfectly. That's how it feels.

She pulls away slowly. Her smile's shy and her eyes are dazzling.

"Let's sleep on that." She suggests before slipping beneath the sheets and rolling over.

I stare at her in complete wonder, both at how she can sleep at a time like this and how beautiful she looks. Halos of golden hair splay across my pillow and her rose lips that I can still feel grazing mine are curved to form the slightest of smiles as she dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you to everyone following this story, I'll upload a chapter each day, it was supposed to be a one shot, so I don't see the point in stringing the updates out over weeks, when, for the first time ever this story was completed before I uploaded it. _

_Nanou, I'm very much not giving up on Trinity, I promise. I'm struggling a little with getting the next chapter down on paper though, for some reason. And NBE, well there's been about a third of a chapter written for a while and I've hit a wall :( any suggestions or inspirations would be greatly received! Thank you for your review! And thank you to Suze and Emma too!_

_..._

_The sound that stole my heart away…_

A week later, when I'm back at school, back to normality, I can still see that perfect smile. I don't think I'll ever forget it actually. The only bad thing about it is how distracting the memory is when I'm supposed to be concentrating. I should be catching up on reading for Calculus but all my thoughts keep slipping back to her.

I pull my cell from my pocket again just to see if she's replied yet even though I would have felt it vibrate if she had. I sigh at my own neediness and a smile catches at my lips.

I think of what she'd say if she could see me now. I'm sat in the cafeteria for morning break and there's an empty court just outside. People all around me enjoying the freedom of the recess but here I am, Nathan Scott, sat at a table reading.

I can almost hear her patter of giggles if I concentrate hard enough. She'd laugh and tease me mercilessly for being such a nerd. She's the only person I'd let get away with such a thing because behind the laughter there'd be that proud kind of look in her eye.

Internally I roll my eyes at myself. I can't keep my mind from her. Since we met at the Classic last week and I spent every free moment in her company I haven't been able to think straight. Since we kissed and flirted like mad the following day I haven't focussed on anything but her. All I see when I close my eyes is her performing the cheer routine, her eyes trained to mine the whole time and the feeling that we were the only two people in the room.

I realise that I've just wasted away most of my break thinking about her and decide that any further attempts at reading would be futile. I shake my head and try to forget the images of tangled blonde hair and dizzyingly long legs that are filling my mind. I pack my books away and go to head towards class. I groan at the sight of a load of students packed around the TV near the entrance to the canteen. No doubt some celebrity's made a faux pas and everyone's been drawn in by it, meaning that I have to squeeze through the gaggle to get to my next period.

I frown when I see a few teachers stood in the huddle, gripping their coffee mugs tightly, and staring at the screen in a terrified manner. Everyone's stood transfixed and no one so much as flinches when the bell rings.

The bright room seems to darken slightly as the sun moves in behind the clouds and the streaming light dissolves into shadows. I'm the only one who seems to notice though, everyone else is hypnotised by the TV.

Curious as to what's got everyone acting like complete zombies, I join them and watch the screen. It takes a minute for me to catch up; I'm not sure whether to focus on the presenter or the news reel.

Suddenly I understand; a school shooting.

It's the kind of thing that puts the fear into anyone.

Teachers are shaking their heads. People are putting their hands to their mouths in shock. I hear someone mutter about how close it is. Vaguely interested, I tune back into what the reporter's saying.

I don't think that three words have ever scared me more than the three I hear next from the reporter's mouth.

_Tree Hill High._

She goes on to mention something about police presence and evacuation but everyone around me has started to chatter so it's impossible to get the whole story.

"Shut up!" I hear myself yell, "Just shut up, all of you!"

A stunned silence falls over everyone as they stare at me rather than the TV screen. I watch the horror unfold from the safety of my own school, miles away.

I yank my phone out and punch in her number that I know by heart now.

It rings and rings and rings.

"Dammit." I curse angrily. I take one last look at the nightmare as it plays out on the TV screen before I take off towards my car.

I repeatedly try Peyton's phone to no avail.

_And I try not to worry, but you've got me terrified…_

I'm racing down the highway at such breakneck speed that I'm almost scaring myself, at least I would be if I wasn't so completely centred on Peyton and only Peyton.

I grab my cell phone and dial a different number; Lucas.

There's an answer almost immediately and I recognise Brooke's raspy tone at the end of the line, "Nathan?"

Her voice is breathy and broken like she's been crying.

My throat tightens and my mouth dries so that I can barely form the words but I have to know, "Brooke, I need Peyton, is she alright?"

Instantly I have my answer. When she doesn't reply immediately, I know. A new wave of fear hits me and I begin to drown in the force of it.

"Talk to me, Brooke!" I demand, frustrated that she's giving me no information.

I hear her sob at the end of the line and it only makes me infuriated, "Brooke!"

There's silence for a few more seconds and then there's Luke's voice on the line, "Hey man, it's Lucas."

"Tell me everything you know." I order.

I want to know as much as I can. So that I can get a picture of what could be happening to her. Though it will probably only make me feel even more powerless.

"There's been one shot fired." He says in a low, dark voice that I barely register as being his. His tone is sure and even like always but I note the edge of fear that he's clearly trying hard to hide. "The shooter, Jimmy Edwards, he's got some people held hostage in there."

I swallow thickly, "Peyton?"

My voice has none of the collectedness of Lucas'. I can't hide my fear.

"She might not be with him, she could just be hiding out, people do that in these situations." He tells me, trying to be positive. I pray that's what she's doing.

"Listen, Nathan," Lucas pauses and I want to throttle him for it, "Haley's in there too."

The sickly feeling in my stomach intensifies and I briefly see Haley's terrified eyes in my mind. "When the shot was fired, did anyone witness it?"

Lucas coughs, "Brooke was there."

The smallest flicker of hope finds me and all of my focus returns to Peyton, "And she didn't see Peyton anywhere nearby?"

I can already hear the relief in my voice as I say the words. I think back to that look Brooke and I shared at the Classic; the thanks we gave each other for looking after Peyton. Knowing that Brooke was there calms me because I'm sure that she wouldn't let anything happen to Peyton anymore than I would. Now I just need to get to the school and make sure she gets the hell out before anything _does _happen.

"Peyton was in the corridor with her." I have to swerve as Luke says that to save from crashing into another vehicle.

"Hold on, _what_?"

I can vaguely hear Brooke crying in the background as Lucas relays the story to me, "They were walking to class together, and Jimmy was by the lockers, through the doors. Brooke said they saw him with the gun pointed and they ducked. As soon as he pulled the trigger everything went mad. It was just a stampede of people running to get out. Someone picked Brooke up off the floor and dragged her towards the exit."

"What about Peyton?" My voice is a blend of anger, disappointment and cold hard terror, "She just left her there? Did no one think to pick _her_ up and drag _her_ out?"

"It wasn't like that." Lucas says in his even tone.

"It wasn't like _what_?" I question, frustrated that he doesn't share my way of thinking, "Some psycho's shooting a gun and it's suddenly not the right time to check if your friend's okay?"

"When I met Brooke outside she was screaming for Peyton, okay?" Lucas throws back at me, playing the defensive boyfriend, "She probably would have run back into the school if I hadn't stopped her."

"Someone should have gone back in for her!" I rage desperately, struggling to push back the looming dread, "Someone should have got her out! What is _wrong_ with you?"

"You can't just go running into a shoot out!" Lucas returns, his voice rising.

"So you left her!" I yell, and the thought of her alone nearly destroys me, "You knew that she was in there and you didn't go in?"

"You weren't there, okay? It wasn't as simple as that; he's got a gun in there!" Lucas rages back.

"He's got Peyton too!" I remind him not so discreetly, "Did no one think to go and save her from him?"

"Most heroes are dead, Nate." He snaps, finally losing his calm with me.

I hang up the phone, not caring for anymore of his pathetic cowardly excuses. I hope that he and Brooke are ashamed, some friends.

All year she's needed someone, she's needed friends to help her cope with the loss of her Mom, with the discovery that she's adopted, and to ease the loneliness I know she suffers. But more than ever today she needed someone to not forget her, to not leave her behind, she needed someone to step up and risk it all for her, because damn it she's worth the risk.

I slam the steering wheel with the palm of my hand and take pleasure from the pain. I made a promise to her that if she needed anything I'd be there for her but I wasn't. I'm not.

I curse Brooke and Lucas for being too wrapped up in themselves and for failing her all year. But really, I blame myself the most. I left town, deserted her. And when she needed me to be there for her, I was hours away, completely oblivious.

Repeatedly I tell myself that I would have ran in for her, regardless of guns and shooters; I would have gone to get her out or I'd have died trying. But I would have done something. At least that's what I tell myself.

I try and use game tactics to keep my focus. Life presses pretty hard sometimes but you have to push back. Even if every impulse in your body is screaming to worry or panic or punch something, you have to fight it. You have to find something worth holding onto, to keep you going. I have that something; the ray of hope that in the scuffle she got scared and hid out in a closet or a classroom, safe from the danger.

The road I'm so familiar with suddenly seems endless, as though I'm never going to get there, to her.

My concentration falls for a moment and I lose the thread of hope that I've been hanging onto. I've never felt so useless in my whole entire life, to know that she could be hurt and all I can do is try to break the land speed record to reach her.

I press harder on the gas and pass another landmark in my mission to get home.

Home to Peyton.

The minutes are dwindling by and I know that every second counts, every precious second. Anything could be happening there and I'm not there. I need to be there.

I think about something Peyton told me about Ellie, her advice to her on living life. She told her not to miss out, not to skip out life because of all the niggling little things. It's pretty sound advice; advice I should have listened to properly when Peyton relayed it to me. I've been missing out. I should have told her how I feel; I've known for a while now but haven't admitted it to this point.

I want to spend my days with her. I want to laugh with her at things that no one else finds funny, I want to get lost in her curls and I want make her blush. I want to be the only one to touch her smooth skin, I want to be the reason for her smile and I want to make sure she never feels lonely. More than anything I just want to hold her in my arms again and appreciate how lucky I am to have her in my life because I didn't do that the last time I saw her and I owe it to her to feel that way.

I need her. I've always needed her I think, but now I realise just how much.

Seeing the sign for Tree Hill my heart hammers hard against my chest, aching to see her.

I think I'm in love with Peyton Sawyer.


	4. Chapter 4

_Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars, I could really use a wish right now…_

I skid into the school parking lot and come to a haphazard stop. Then I wrench the door open and set off running.

_Be okay, be okay, be okay. _

My thoughts run in beat with my heart as it fights the urge not to explode from the suspense I'm suffering. My whole body's pounding with the weight of dread and my heart will not stop hammering.

_Be okay, be okay, be okay._

I have so much I suddenly need to tell her, things I've had a thousand chances to say. I have to tell her that I'm sorry I wasn't there when she needed me. I need to tell her I'm sorry that I broke my promise to _always_ be there for her.

_Just be okay_.

I need to hold her in my arms again. Have the feeling of her wrapped in my embrace safe from harm. I need to make sure she knows that I would do anything to protect her, to keep her from getting hurt.

_Please let her be okay._

_In a second - just hold on - all in good time - won't be long…_

I approach the school in a strange kind of daze, like the whole world's stopped and it's just me moving through the silence and the still. All I can hear are my own deep shallow breaths; in and out. Everything else is frozen. The groups of shocked parents and teachers ahead of me are huddled together; unmoving and soundless. It's just me. Alone.

As the building looms and I pass by the army of ashen faced cops, I stumble. I glance down at my feet even though I should be racing forwards. There on the beaten grass is a snake of yellow police tape, torn in two.

Suddenly everything snaps back into focus.

Piercing cries wail through the air. Chaos pools around me as people rush by. Tense heavy air falls over the moment. But no one speaks. Nothing tells me what I need to know.

I move towards a crowd tightly huddled together in front of the school entrance. My footsteps echo loudly on the cement as I approach but no one turns towards the sound. There're all focused on a person knelt down in the centre of the group. They watch on in despair as the small, hunched figure doubles over as though in pain and lets out an ear-piercing, haunted scream.

The sound sends shivers through my bones and only then do I realise who the cry belongs to. The image before me sharpens and finally I recognise the lilac paisley jacket and long brunette waves.

Now when I look, I also make out Lucas, Karen, and Haley amongst the crowd encircling the broken figure on the floor. They look on helplessly as cheery, bouncy Brooke falls apart at their feet. Another shriek of tortured agony passes her lips and although I've never heard a sound like it from her, I know exactly what it means. There's only one explanation.

It's as though all the pieces of the puzzle fall into place and I see what was in front of me all along.

The force of a thousand emotions crashes into me like the wind of a hurricane. My legs buckle under the weight of it and I find my self on my knees mirroring Brooke. My fists clench together tightly and my whole body shakes with shocking grief. I'm in the prayer position, staring up at the sky and pleading for the universe to bring her back.

_Picture perfect memories, scattered all around the floor…_

My room's dark, the blinds are down. Outside the earth's still spinning but in my sanctuary I can convince myself that the world's the same as it was just days ago.

She's smiling back at me from every corner of the room. There are photos everywhere, I didn't know that I had this many; I'm not exactly the sentimental type that takes a camera everywhere. Yet I have a blanket of pictures covering the floor, all of them of her.

I went out and developed all the photographs I took at the Classic and of when she came to visit me. I don't know how I was in denial for so long about how I felt because every single picture is of her, without exception.

There's enough to cover my room; she's there, in every direction I look, staring back. Her rose lips are smiling to my left and her gorgeous eyes are glaring on my right. She's laughing and pouting, dancing and frowning. Every side of her is here, captured in a hundred shots of radiance.

I have a t-shirt of hers that she must have left at my parents' place a long time ago; an emblazoned band tee with a name I don't recognise. It smells like her. I close my eyes and take her in. Then I panic that I'm taking her scent from the shirt and all too soon it'll become just a memory.

I have hundreds of things that remind me of her. I have tickets from trips to the movies and jewellery I bought only for her to throw back at me. There are scars she gave me during overenthusiastic fights and letters she sent to me during our times apart. In my bathroom there's a near empty bottle of her shampoo still here from when we dated. Then there are countless items that have no connection at all but still make me think of her. Nothing comes close to making me feel anything but completely and devastatingly lost without her.

The clock in the corner is ticking; reminding me that time's still moving even though it feels like the whole planet's come to a stop. I glance over and see that it's half past one but I honestly have no idea if it's morning or night. The only thing I'm concerned with is studying every single inch of her face in every single photograph. I want to commit her to my memory so that even when I haven't got the pictures in front of me, I can still see her. I want her to be there when I close my eyelids and I want to be able to smell her without the aid of her old clothes. I want to hear her melodic laughter that she saved for rare moments of perfection and I want to taste her sweet, sweet lips on mine.

My fingers graze the outline of her face in the nearest photograph. She's looking shyly at the camera, beautifully hesitant as she debates a smile. Her eyes are glassy; shining in a contented manner. It was taken at the Classic; she was getting ready to perform and I was watching her dress.

It takes the taste of salty bitterness for me to realise that I'm crying again.

I feel another tear roll down my cheek as my heart clenches with the sting of memories. It's hard to see her in my mind; so alive and so beautiful, knowing now that her future is gone.

Crouched on my floor, I drown in a sea of Sawyer that just doesn't measure up. I clutch tightly onto her shirt, rubbing the soft cotton between my fingertips causing a fresh wave of memories to crash down over me.

Summers on the beach with her smooth bronzed skin beneath my hands. Her shrieking with girlish laughter as I chase her around the bedroom. Near never-ending legs spilling into the aisle between our desks. The slow mocking roll of the most stunning eyes I've ever seen.

I forget that I'm trying to pretend she's not gone. And I let myself miss her like I've never missed anyone before.

I don't hear when my door opens and I don't realise anyone's in the room until she taps me on the shoulder and interrupts my grieving.

"Nathan." Her voice is raspy like ever, but there's an edge to it, like the pain she's feeling is seeping through into her syllables.

Furiously I wipe my eyes with the back of my hands, not wanting Brooke to see my tears.

She's only been in the room a matter of seconds but already she's crying, "She was so beautiful, huh?"

I nod, not able to find the words as my throat is burning with the choke of the tears I've hastily swallowed down.

She picks her way carefully across the floor towards an old picture of her and Peyton at some party. It's from sophomore year; Peyton's in a black corset and Brooke's wearing a red halter top. They're both smiling widely and if you look closely, you can just make out their fist bump happening at the bottom of the picture.

Brooke reaches down but picks up a different photograph; it's a recent one of me and Peyton after my first game for Oak Lake.

"Just look at her." I think it takes everything for Brooke not to burst into a fresh wave of tears, "She's so happy here."

I take it from her outstretched hand and note for the first time the way that Peyton's eyes are focussed on me and there's that telltale gleam to them.

"I haven't seen her happy like that in a long time." Brooke reveals, "She hated that you were so far away, she never said it but it's so obvious now."

I gulp, not wanting to hear this.

It feels like the harshest twist of fate to learn all of this _now_. If I'd known just a day, a week or a month ago, I could have changed everything, absolutely everything.

And the guilt crashes down again; with more force than I knew possible for one emotion.

Brooke manages to smile, "She loved you."

Somehow that's the most painful thing to know.

"Thank you." She says in a strange voice, "For making her happy these past few months and for being there."

Finally I find my voice, "I can't,"

She frowns, "You can't what?"

"I can't do this. I can't talk about her; I can't listen to you talking about her." Seeing Brooke brings out an ugly side to my grief that I can't explain, "Get out and leave me alone."

"Nathan?" She questions through a breathy gasp. Her watery hazel eyes stare desperately at me and I know she's looking for strong, dependable Nathan. I can tell that she thinks that version of me is still there, hidden behind the harsh angry mask.

"Didn't you hear?" I snarl, "I don't want to hear what you've got to say, I don't even want to see you."

She takes the verbal punch hard and recoils before sweeping from the room with a new reason to cry.

I don't care in the slightest; there's no pang of guilt and no regretful feelings. The only emotions I have are tied to Peyton; no one else is worthy of intruding on energy meant for her.

_If I only could, make a deal with God, and get him to change our places…_

For the first time in my life, I find myself on a basketball court without a ball in hand. Hell, I don't even _want_ to play. I can't remember a time that the game ever meant so little. My whole life it's been the centre of my world. Now though I can see that something else meant more.

I'm not even sure why I came to the rivercourt. If I'm honest, I can't register how I got here. My mind's so full of heavy thoughts that I haven't been paying attention to where I'm walking.

Somehow though, I find myself here on the open empty court. I guess it's an instinct; an inbuilt reflex that clicks into action whenever something happens that I can't handle.

It's different though, because the court can't heal me this time. Basketball can't help me to forget. The game can't erase away the tragedy.

I sit on the blacktop, only because it feels out of place for me to be standing there empty handed. I don't know what to do with myself. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I can't play ball. I can't function. I can't even grieve properly.

Along the edge of the tarmac, where the beaten court meets the grass, I notice what looks like chalk. I guess the 'rivercourt guys' as they're nicknamed sometimes mark out their own court or draw out game plays on the tarmac. Whatever the reason for the chalk, it feels like one of those moments where something suddenly makes sense. Like the reason I came to the rivercourt – a place that's never been mine or Peyton's – is suddenly staring at me.

Tentatively I take the chalk in hand. It feels a little odd. I'm invading into her world now, testing myself at her craft of expertise. It makes me think of the times I made her play ball with me. I think of the afternoon spent teaching her the best techniques to score a basket, and I remember her launching the ball pretty hard at my head in frustration. And that makes me smile, a real, genuine, soft smile for the first time in days. It feels so unnatural but in another way it's kind of fitting that she's the one to bring a smile to my lips. She always had that talent.

_You made me smile. _

I write the words on the asphalt, the white of the chalk shines brightly against the blacktop.

_You understood; I never had to explain, even when I did something really dumb._

It feels good, to think about this side for a while rather than the future.

_You would have laughed to see me doing this._

She would've cracked up at the idea of me kneeling on the floor and scrawling my feelings down for everyone to see. It's the kind of thing she'd do, not me.

_You were selfless. Nothing was ever too much trouble._

_You took me as I am._

_You're the coolest person I have ever met._

_You were fierce and passionate._

_You were like no other girl on the planet._

I hope that she's looking down at me now. Rolling her wondrous green eyes, smiling that wide smile and calling me a moron. I tell myself that she is and it feels good to have her company. I talk to her a little too, warning her not to laugh at my spelling mistakes or my childlike handwriting.

When the blacktop's covered in a serenade to everything she was, I stand back and survey my work. It's only then that I realise there's someone else stood there with me; Lucas.

I assume he came to play because he's turning a basketball over in his hands but he doesn't step onto the court.

"Hey," I greet him awkwardly as he throws his squint over my work, "Sorry for destroying the place."

He chuckles lightly under his breath as he shakes his head, "You know, I came here to play, and maybe forget for a while. I thought basketball might make everything feel right again but it hasn't worked so far. Maybe that's where I'm going wrong; trying to forget. I think we're supposed to be remembering."

I nod because he may have actually struck upon something.

He indicates towards my scrawls, "Do you mind, if I?"

"Go ahead." I say quickly. I'm more than okay with anyone reading about her and how incredible she was.

I watch for a while as he carefully navigates the court and reads my words.

Eventually he looks up and nods to me and I can see the tears in his eyes, "If there was a way to bring her back, to redo that day,"

"Trust me, man," I say hoarsely, "If there was a way, I'd already have her back here, calling me a dork."

_..._

_I'm sorry! Please don't hate me for that, too much, I hate that I did it too!_

_Caskett1994, thank you so much for your lovely words, I'm glad you're enjoying the stroy so far :)_

_Suze18, all I can say is that I'm very sorry, (again!)_

_Nanou, your English is perfect; c'est mon Français qui est un problème! Je pense qu'il est étonnant que vous lisez et laissez les commentaires en anglais. Donc, merci beaucoup, j'apprécie votre temps et effort. Pardon pour ma grammaire!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Because it's hard to think I'll never get another chance to hold you, to hold you…_

We stand together, the four of us, at the graveside.

Lucas is to my right and besides him Brooke and Haley. I don't know why we're grouped together; I guess it's that way because of age, history, relationships, something like that.

It's hard to be stood here. I knew it would be but I didn't understand the enormity of just how painstakingly difficult it would be. I don't think I could have ever prepared for how this feels.

I can't seem to register in my mind how someone so alive can be erased in the flash of a moment. One day she was here and the next she was gone. That seems impossible even now after living through it for the past few days. It still feels like she's going to walk around the corner any second rolling her eyes and smirking at me.

Only she's not. She's definitely not.

Instead I have to deal alone. Well, not alone but without her. That kind of feels like the same thing right now though.

I see Lucas reach for Brooke's hand and in turn she reaches out for Haley. They're a unit. The smallest part of me is glad of it. It's good that they have each other to lean on and I know that they'll be okay.

As the rest of the congregation begin to move towards the waiting cars, we stand firm. It's not been prearranged for us to hang back but somehow we all know to do so. It's as though none of us feel as though the service voiced our true thoughts and we all have the need to voice them now. I know that I can't leave her until I've said my piece. There are things I need her to know.

"Peyton," Haley is the most together of all of us and so steps forwards first. I realise that this is like our own personal goodbye which the mere thought of causes my stomach to turn. She crouches next to the stone but doesn't speak; I guess sometimes more can be said without words.

I want to be mad at Haley for standing with us as though she knew her like we did, or pretending like she was her friend but today's not the day and now's not the time. As it goes, Haley's actually been pretty great today. She's been there for Lucas and Brooke without getting in my way and she read something at the service which made me sit up and listen.

There were the usual poems and speeches that are delivered; all nice and moving but completely impersonal. There was something so refreshing and honest about what Haley said that I can't bring myself to hate her for doing it.

She told the room of people who loved Peyton that she didn't see eye-to-eye with the girl they were all mourning. She told them that the pair of them had shared many arguments and they had never resolved their differences before Peyton died. Despite any the bad feeling between me and Haley, I couldn't help but admire her bravery.

"_Lots of you probably know that Peyton and I didn't exactly get along. I did something pretty inexcusable to one of her best friends and she stood by him. Even when he left town and she had to see me at school every day. Even when she had to share the same group of friends with me; never did she let her friend down; not once did she let her fierce loyalty wane. She was the most dependable and dedicated of people that I've ever met. And even though we didn't get on, I will always admire her. _

_It may seem strange for me to be speaking at her funeral, standing before all of you who loved her - me, a girl who at times really didn't like her - but even if none of you understand, I know that Peyton would respect my honesty, as brutal as it is because she would have done the same for me. I'm sure of it._

_If you were lucky enough to be friends with this girl then I'm jealous because everyone should have a friend like Peyton Sawyer but some of us weren't lucky enough. _

_I caught a glimpse of the girl behind all the walls; beyond all the angsty music, all the scowls and all the quick remarks. I saw the most beautiful soul. _

_Sometimes she could be mean but I can assure you that she would have had the best reasons for being so, because Peyton had higher morals than other people and she never did anything just to be "cool" or to look good because that's not the type of person she was. She was deep thinking and brooding, she only put up the walls to find out who would care enough to tear them down. Those people that she did let in; that small circle of friends are the people she would have fought forever for, no matter the cost. _

_If you had the honour, the complete honour, of ever meeting Peyton then please treasure her, just like I will. Never let her be forgotten, take her everywhere and share what you knew of her because someone like Peyton should never be buried away. She was given to us for a reason and I think that I can say with no doubt that she's left a deep impression on all of us here today, and I'm sure that her death will not be in vain. We'll all make sure of that by passing on stories of her, teaching people things she taught us, and keeping the memories of her tight to our hearts."_

For that; for holding no punches and for not romancing the truth, I respect her; just as she said like Peyton would have.

Haley rises to her feet slowly and moves back to our huddled group, patting Lucas as she passes as though she's tagging him in or something.

"Peyt," I can't remember Luke ever using that nickname but maybe his voice just gave out after that one syllable, I know that mine keeps breaking in that way.

He takes longer than Haley, but none of us are in any rush to say goodbye, to let go. So we wait patiently and pretend that this isn't really happening.

I see him bow his head low as he crouches at the grave, as though trying to hide his grief from us. He's been strong all day, no doubt for the sake of Brooke who's a complete wreck. Either he hasn't allowed himself to break down for the sake of us, or he's just one of those people who'll find a quiet place alone and let it all fall over him. I suppose that it's a bit of both.

He's the kind of guy that will put his feelings to the back of his mind for the sake of everyone else. He'll let them grieve first and then see to himself later. He's also the brooding type - like Peyton - he'll probably wrestle with his thoughts for a while and deal with this in a way that no one else quite understands.

Unlike Brooke he won't scream, he won't talk it through like Haley and I doubt he'll be aggressive like I'm bursting to be. Instead he'll work through it quietly, by himself, maybe with the help of basketball or books or something but mostly within his own head.

Eventually he lifts to his feet and holds his head up high. It's then that I see the lone tear trailing down his cheek.

As he steps back in line with us I give him the subtlest of nods, for giving her that dignified mark of respect. Although he's trying to be strong, when the armour broke and a little of his weakness shone through, he didn't deny it. He lifted his gaze and let that tear fall to the ground. A less honourable guy would have wiped the grief away.

He claps a hand on my shoulder in a show of support. His jaw is set and the trace of his tear is gone but I can see the anguish in his eyes. He lost her too.

"P Sawyer." Brooke rasps as she slowly moves forward to the graveside. She looks to the sky with her tear filled eyes scanning the powdered clouds for her friend, "Skinny Girl, Fake Blondie, Goldilocks, Peyton Marie Sawyer,"

I see Brooke all but lose it then as she calls out to her friend but gets no reply. I'm still mad at her for leaving Peyton alone but at this moment I forget all the anger and only feel sympathy because I know how much this hurts. No matter what happened that day, the future's the same for all of us. Each of us has to go on without her.

Brooke kneels down next to where her best friend now lies, not caring that her dress might get mud stains on it, and she sobs; fat, angry cries between the words that none of us can quite make out.

Lucas goes to rush towards her but she shoos him away. She clutches at the grass tightly as the teardrops stream her cheeks and the words catch in her throat. Her body shakes violently as her emotions rush and everything she wants to say and do hits her with force. Finally she collapses onto the floor, limp but still crying and allows Lucas to drag her away.

I realise then that I'm the only one left.

I can barely wrap my mouth around the word, the word that is so familiar that I've said it a thousand times before. And now it's so hard to say because it always was and always will be exclusively ours. She'll forever be to me, "Sawyer."

All that follows that one word is flat silence. There's no coy smile and no sparkling, exceptional emerald eyes. There's no sprinkling of gorgeous laughter, no sharp sarcastic remark and no soft waiting lips.

Nothing.

And it's all I can do not to cry again.

I try and spin my grief by imagining what she'd say if she could see us all now. She'd call us all soft, for sure. She'd wrinkle her nose at Haley's sorrow; she'd comment on Brooke's ridiculous shoes; and she'd remark upon Lucas' tired eyes.

She'd save her thoughts about me until last so that she could laugh longer and harder at how simply pathetic I'm being. She'd probably blame me for the day being so damn depressing and she'd ask if I was responsible for the music which would in no way live up to her impeccable standards. She'd tease me mercilessly and call me all sorts of names but I'd love her for it anyway.

And the grief comes crashing back fresher and thicker and sharper than before, because every time I think of her I remember another thing I'm going to miss.

I vaguely recognise the sensation of someone leading me away but I don't bother to acknowledge the unfortunate person whose been chosen to deal with me. I just stare back at place where we were all stood just five minutes ago; the place that's now empty save for the countless wreaths that are all she has for company. I wrestle away from the person's hold and rush back to graveside; I can't stand for her to be left all alone.

"Nathan."

I turn, surprised to find that the person who'd been trying to drag me away is Whitey. He looks at me and I can see a deep look in his eyes, telling me that he understands.

"She's not here, Son." He clamps a hand on my back but doesn't bother trying to pull me away again.

"It's just," I swallow thickly, gulping down the bile rising in my throat, "I don't want her to be on her own."

"She's not." He says it with such conviction that I almost believe it.

I shake my head, "I want her to know that I never meant to leave her. She was so lonely and then when she…died, no one was there. I want to stay with her now."

"That's the last thing she would want you to do." He tells me and I can almost hear her scolding me for it.

I scowl and stay rooted to the spot.

"I did the same when I lost Camilla." He reveals in a quiet tone, "I couldn't bear the thought of her here in this cemetery with only _ghosts _for company so I sat with her every day. It was only when I went home to fetch her things that I realised; she wasn't in this graveyard. I couldn't feel her here, but at home where she'd been, where she'd lived, that's where she was. She still surprises me; when I hear piano music she's there, twirling and dancing before my eyes. When the fall leaves rustle in the breeze she's there kicking them between her feet. When something falls from the top shelf she's there cursing and laughing at the same time."

I look at my feet, "I don't want to have to wait for a song to come on or for the season to change just for a memory. I want her to be here now."

"I know." He sighs heavily and I can tell that it's the truth, "But that's the one thing you can't have."

His words make me feel weak at the knees.

"They never leave us, Nathan. She may not be here in person but she's with you. Right now you probably can't feel it; you've got so much going on that there's not room for her too but it'll come and you'll know when it does. It'll be something that no one else will quite understand and that might make it all the more special or all the more heartbreaking but that girl she'll be with you, mark my words." He tells me, "She was a feisty one; Blondie. She won't be leaving you in a hurry."

I try to smile but I just end up crying. I rush to wipe my eyes, cursing the tears that are flowing down my cheeks.

"Don't ever think its weak, Nathan." He says in a hollow voice, "It's okay to cry, don't you think she deserves your tears?"

It's about the most sense that anyone's said to me all day; she deserves to be cried for. She deserves a hell of a lot but I can't give it to her, one thing I can give her is my tears and I'll happily stand here and shed a million for her and tell her that I miss her more than I thought it possible to miss anyone.

"You'll be alright." Whitey calls to me from some faraway place that I suspect is right over my shoulder.

His footsteps echo in my ear as he walks away, leaving me alone at the graveside. His words fall heavily over me. He's about the only person who's been able to reach me. I guess that has something to do with the fact that he _knows_, he knows this pain, this indescribable torturous ache. And somehow, he found a way through the black. It makes me think that one day maybe I'll also find a way to live with this. And perhaps one day I could be that wise older man telling some unfortunate kid that it's possible to live with this grief and injustice.

For the moment though all I can think to do is sit down with her and sob.

But how many times can I talk this way and wish "If only..."…

I reach the house late, long after all the mourners have left. I almost turned around on my way up here but something pushed me on. I think it was her. It was as though she needed for me to visit her Dad.

As I cut out the engine, I stare at the house. It's so familiar and alien all at once. To the outsider, it looks like any other house on the street; a family home built to be filled with love and laughter. I sigh heavily. I'm not an outsider; I know that inside the walls of this particular house the world is tumbling in. It was at one time that family home filled with contagious laughter and ebbing with overflowing love. Now it's just one man's prison, holding the bitter memories of the happy home it was meant to be.

I shiver at it takes a moment for me to realise why. Gazing up at the house I see that there's one light on in the whole house. And that light is from her room. Peyton's room.

Slowly I get out of the car and walk the familiar path to her front door. I let myself in, as I always did, even though the protocol's definitely changed now. It's dark inside but it doesn't affect me as it should. I guess I've grown used to the darkness these past few days.

When I reach the upper landing, the light leaking from her slightly ajar door is almost blinding. It makes me stop in my tracks. Because for a second I can pretend that the world is right again and she's just through that door, waiting for me.

Eventually though I know I have to shake myself out of my daze. It doesn't matter how much I wish or hope or try to make myself believe it, because it won't change the truth. She's not there waiting for me and she's never going to be. Never again.

Taking a deep breath, I step forwards and push open the door lightly.

Blinking back the brightness, I stubbornly wait for everything to come into focus. And when it does, it near on takes my breath away.

My eyes glide quickly over the room and before I know it they're swimming with tears again. It hits me like a stab to my heart. Without her, it's like the very soul of the place has been snatched away.

"Nathan."

Quickly I run the back of my hand over my eyes and turn to the gravelly voice.

Looking to Larry Sawyer, I feel an aching tie to him. Staring into his eyes is like looking into a mirror; etched into his irises is pain, loss and despair; he's the picture of a broken man. I recognise the emotion from my own reflection.

He's sat on the floor, his knees brought high to his chin and he's still in his suit and tie as I am.

"Mr Sawyer." I greet him hoarsely and pad over to where he's slumped. "I'm sorry…"

I can't even think of the words to finish that sentence. I'm sorry for everything. Sorry for turning up late and interrupting his private mourning. Sorry that I haven't called round until now. Sorry that I never told her just how much she meant to me. Sorry that I wasn't here. Sorry that I couldn't save her. Sorry that he's lost his whole entire world. Sorry that for the second time in his life, he never had the chance to say goodbye.

He nods back at me. He gets it.

A heavy but mutual silence falls as Larry sips at his whiskey. He nods towards the bottle, inviting me to join him but I shake my head. The smell alone is taking me back to a memory of me and Peyt at the beach house, breaking into my Dad's liquor supply. The taste would probably send me into a spiral of more painful reminders.

For the first time since _that day_, I feel the responsibility to not completely lose myself in her. Right now, Larry needs me to be his shoulder. I owe it to him, or to her, at least. Because although my family are probably the most messed up group of people on the planet, they're still here. Larry's family is gone.

"Where were we?" Larry rasps in a hollow tone, "I keep thinking about how scared she must have been; my baby girl, and I wasn't here."

I swallow hard because I've had the same thought revolving around my head like an ironic broken record.

He looks up at me with those haunted eyes, eyes that remind me of his daughter, "Where were we?"

"We were racing like hell to get to her." I tell him honestly because I can't think of what else to say to him. "And she knows that. She always knew that no matter how far away or how long we were gone, she knew what we felt for her."

His expression crumbles, "I just want to tell her that. I need to know that she understands."

"She does." I say the words with conviction, because I believe them and I want Larry to know that they're true.

I watch a solitary tear rolls down his cheek, "She was our miracle. Anna and I, we couldn't…have a baby of our own. And at first I was reluctant, I didn't think I could ever love someone else's kid like I'd love my own. I think back to that now and it amazes me; how I ever thought I wouldn't love her. Honestly, I've never loved anything or anyone in the way that I love my girl."

He takes a sip of his drink before continuing, "I would have given her the world, if I knew how. But it feels like I failed her. Like I failed Anna. I'm her Dad, I'm supposed to protect her."

"You didn't fail her." I say, feeling the onset of hot, heavy tears again.

I notice the number on the wall smirking down on me. 6,470,818,671. The number is wrong, I think idly. Right now there's one less person in the world. And she may have been the most important one of all.

"We had so many dreams for her," Larry reveals, "but mostly we just wanted a long and happy life for her."

I nod by head up and down at his words, "I would do anything to give that to her."

"How do I carry on from here?" He questions, his eyes boring holes into me. "She was my reason for everything."

I feel my forehead knit to a frown. I'm paddling out of my depth here but I know that she's counting on me somehow.

"She still can be." I muster in a low whisper, "She wouldn't want us to stop because of this."

It's ironic, I know, because these words I'm speaking to Larry are the same ones that people have been speaking to me.

"I don't know that I can do that." He says back. The words are so fragile and weak that I believe him too.

"For Peyton." I beg. I can't stand the thought that I wasn't able to save her, I can't fail Larry too.

He hangs his head and I see more tears falling from his eyes, "Is that all I can do for her now?"

That question sucks the breath from my lungs. To hear a father ask if there's only one thing he can now do for the daughter he loved with all his heart. And to know the answer to that question is just as devastating.

"I think it is." The best we can do for her now is to go on living without her. It's the most crushing thought I have ever heard in my whole entire life.

He frowns as he looks up at me, "I think it probably is too."

I nod and take a seat beside him. I think both of us know that the night stretching out before us is likely to last for what feels like weeks. Neither of us wants to face that alone.

For a while I just drink in the room around us; frozen in time. On the floor there's a _Ramones_ t-shirt she probably discarded in favour of another on _that_ morning. There's a record sleeve lying on her desk, possibly listing the soundtrack that she got up to that morning. Tacked to her closet door I see a sketch in her familiar inky style.

I lift to my feet to inspect it further. Instantly I recognise the two characters depicted. I'd recognise that head of blonde in a heartbeat. And that lop-sided slightly arrogant grin definitely belongs to me. Seeing her picture of the two of us hugging brings the almost inchings of a smile to my lips. I'm not certain but I'm pretty sure that it's a sketch of the day I left for Oak Lake.

Beneath the image of us locked in one another's embrace is a caption; _People always leave…but it doesn't mean they're gone._

And that speaks to me more than anything has in the last few forever long days.

I feel Larry's eyes on me so I turn, cursing the tear that's escaped my eye. He seems to consider something for a moment.

"Would you like the picture?" He asks finally.

I look back at it and smile the softest of smiles, "Yeah, I think I do."

"You can have it, if you'd like." He says slowly. I can almost hear the pain it causes him to let go of anything of hers.

I nod gently, "Thank you."

He swallows thickly and looks up to me with heavy lidded eyes, "But Nathan,"

I can feel somehow that he's about to say something serious.

"Please don't forget her." His single simple plea breaks my already shattered heart.

Ensuring that I don't break my stare, I look directly into his eyes, "Sir, I will never forget your daughter."

...

_So I think that following the last chapter people were (understandably) disappointed that I killed off our favourite blonde. Please know that she is my favourite character...if that makes it any better...most likely not. But in an effort to cheer us all up, I have created a forum, and it would be cool if you guys would check it out! It's for story prompts; so just a line or two, a situation you'd like to see the characters in, a song that reminds you of them...anything! Just go along and post it and hopfully someone will be inspired by it! At the moment the only topic there is NP but if you'd like others please let me know!_

_You may have to search a bit for it as I can't get the link to work, but if you go onto the OTH archive, on the top right of the page there's a link to the Forums. It's called story prompts and I'm listed as the moderator. Thank you again for reading!_


	6. Chapter 6

_You can't dictate, the way, the way I'm gonna feel…_

I pull up at Tric and cut the engine. Then I just stare for a while, debating whether to go inside or not. Brooke invited me to some kind of 'gathering'. It's supposed to be a way of coping or remembering or celebrating Peyton. Only it feels wrong.

From where I'm sat in my car I can see the lights of the loft glowing and the drifting sound of music is ebbing through the night air. To the outsider it would look like there's a party happening.

As that thought rolls over me I find myself gripping onto the steering wheel fiercely. And it tells me what I was wondering all along. Whether I was angry at this idea.

I'm contemplating leaving when someone taps on my window. It causes me to jump out of my skin. After a few deep breaths I turn and see Haley stood there staring at me with wide worried eyes.

"Nathan, are you okay?" She speaks softly through the glass and I can hear genuine concern in her voice.

I sigh and nod, running a hand over my features to try and break myself out of the spell I'm in.

"Are you going to come inside?" She asks. I can see a cup in her hand, telling me that she's already been in herself.

"Um," I frown, truly not knowing the answer to the question.

As I'm weighing the decision up in my mind, Haley rounds the car and slips into the passenger seat. I turn my head wildly to accuse her of something but she inclines her head and it's enough to stop me. I can see that she's only trying to help.

"Nathan," She stares forwards and her eyes are kind of glassy, "I wasn't the best friend to Peyton when she was here. I know it's a little late now, but I want to try and be better to her now. She wouldn't want you sat out here."

"No?" I wonder angrily just how it is that Haley could possibly know that.

"No." Haley confirms. "She wouldn't want you to isolate yourself like this. You need friends at your side."

I scoff, despite myself, "Friends."

"Nathan, we're all here for you." She speaks softly.

All I can think is that it's not enough. They're not her. They'll never be enough.

I'm gripping the steering wheel again so Haley reaches across to try and peel my fingers away.

"There's somewhere I need to be." I say suddenly. I probably snap at her but I can't tell. The way she recoils makes me think that I did though. "Go back to the party."

"It's not a party." She says almost defensively.

"Whatever, Haley, just get out of the car!" I suddenly have the urge to be close to Peyton. Because even though she's not here, it feels like she's the only one who understands me right now.

Haley jumps out but before closing the door she looks back at me with those wide fretful eyes, "Nathan, please don't do this on your own."

I just glare and thankfully she closes the door.

_And I think you need to stop following misery's lead…_

I crouch at the graveside and run my fingers over the wilting flowers.

"I'll bring more." I rasp. "I'll bring more."

I vow that I'll always bring her more flowers. It seems important, as though passers-by will judge how much she's missed by the quality of flowers set at her headstone.

For a while I just sit besides her, thinking about the little party that's going on across town for her. I can't help but wonder exactly what they're doing over there. I imagine the room full of people chatting, maybe laughing. But in all that, all I can see is her absence.

"How do I do this without you?"

I try and think of her answer but it hurts. It clutches and pulls at my heart. I can hear her voice in my ear but the words she's saying are only what I'd imagine her to say. They're not her real answer. And I'll _never_ know her real answer.

I'll never hear her voice again. I'll never hear that slight southern tone of hers. And I'll never hear her words of advice to me.

It was always her I turned to. And she always had the answer. She knew me well enough to always have the right words to say.

And now there's only silence.

"How do I do this without you?" I repeat. Only this time I know not to expect an answer.

I sigh and stand to leave. Whitey was right. She's not here. As I leave I glance back, out of habit or hope. Maybe both.

And I see the two stones side by side. For the first time since I arrived, I turn to the second one, belonging to Anna Sawyer.

I think of all the times Peyton stood where I'm stood now. I think of all the grief she suffered and all the pain she held in her heart. And I think of the strength she had to keep going every day. I don't think I ever appreciated it before.

She did it for Anna, to make her proud. And even though it's going to hurt like hell, I think I have to do the same for Peyton.

"Thanks." I say cautiously because I'm not sure if I'm supposed to thank gravestones.

I head back to the car and think about heading home even though a little part of me is curious about the gathering at Tric.

Before it felt wrong to go there, to that place that I always considered to be hers. Now though something feels different, like I have the strength to face it.

_However far away, I will always love you…_

I push open the door gently, and the music rushes at me. It's a heavy beat with whiney lyrics and I have no clue of what the song is, naturally. A thousand ideas flood me as I wonder what's awaiting me. I take a deep breath and walk inside.

Nothing prepares me for what I see.

It's later than I realised and the place actually isn't full of people. In fact I just see the back of three familiar heads, sat together on a couch. It's reminiscent of the movie night Peyton put together for me after my…accident at the race track.

At the sound of my entering, Brooke sits up and turns to see who it is arriving late. "Nathan."

She throws me a watery smile and I note the tear tracks down her face. She doesn't move from the couch, instead she extends her arm out and makes a motion with her hand for me to come and join them.

Slowly I walk forwards to find them all curled together, watching a TV screen.

"Mouth made it." Brooke offers, "I gave him all my videos and pictures of her from old tapes and he made this."

The image on the screen is frozen where they've paused it for my arrival. Brooke and Peyton are together, about ten years old pulling faces at the camera.

"I," I begin to protest or something but truly I have no idea just what I was planning on saying.

Brooke moves along the couch, closer to Lucas, creating a space next to her. "Come sit down, grab a tissue and watch how fabulous she was."

Brooke's voice breaks as she speaks and a tear rolls from the corner of her eye. Lucas hugs her tightly and Haley throws a sympathetic glance from where she's sat on Lucas' other side.

"This is going to be," I trail off as the burn returns to my throat.

"The saddest most beautiful thing you'll ever see." Brooke supplies, "And it's going to make you cry, think you can handle that, Boytoy?"

I manage a slight chuckle, "I've had some practise."

"Good." She smiles softly, "We've already seen it twice and Broody's cried both times."

She pats the space next to her and I concede. I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing right now when I think of it. These past few days I've spent a lot of time grieving alone; it feels kind of nice to have the chance to share it with other people.

Lucas hits the play button as I sit down and the film cuts to a summer pool party. She's on my shoulders as we cheat at a game of volleyball. I watch as we both laugh when she pounds the ball into the opposition's empty space. Then I lose my balance and we both crash into the water.

The four of us bunched together on the couch all laugh a little, through our tears.

"I'm glad you came." Brooke whispers.

"I am too." I admit.

And for the next few hours we stay like that, watching her, missing her and loving her. It feels good to do it together.

I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you so much…

I go back to Oak Lake because I think it's what she would have wanted of me, expected even. It might look like I'm running away and maybe I am but sticking around in Tree Hill won't help me and it won't help her. It doesn't matter where I am, I'll miss her all the same.

I throw my keys down and sift through the mail. My heart stops when I see a familiar handwritten envelope. I drop everything else and take a seat with the letter gripped in my hands.

I realise, with a sickening feeling, that this is the last time. The last time I'll receive anything from her and the last thing she'll say to me. It's dated as the day before _that day_ and I almost don't want to open it because once it's read, they'll be nothing more. So I lay it on the table and stare for a while.

I remember that she always hated that I took so long to unwrap gifts and not tear the paper, I can almost hear her whining at me to open it already and just because it's her, I listen.

_Nate,_

_First, I want to say how great it was to see you at the Classic, like really great. It seems like Oak Lake really was a good move for you. You looked content and I could tell just from the little bit of training I snuck in on that your game's looking fantastic. I hope you're not too comfortable in Green because soon you'll be sporting Duke Blue._

_Thanks for spending the night with me too, you saved me from a room share with Rachel, so I'm eternally grateful. I don't know if you saw her when we were performing? She's kind of hard to miss; all red hair and slutiness, she hasn't quit her attempts to take Lucas and the squad from Brooke so I guess it won't be the last bit of news I tell you about her. It was so good to catch up with you though. I've been so caught up with Ellie recently that I haven't had much time even for Brooke so it was nice to hang out. _

_I've been busy organising the benefit concert which is tonight, can you believe? It seems to have come round so quickly. It's such a shame that Ellie's not here to witness it, because truth is that if it wasn't for her it wouldn't be happening, but I guess it makes it that bit more poignant. It should be a really good night, I wish you could get away so that you could come, not that you'd appreciate good music if it hit you in the face…joke!_

_Okay, so another day, another drama. It wouldn't be Tree Hill otherwise now then would it? So, onto the latest scandal to rock the town. Remember the Time Capsule we made last year? Someone decided that they couldn't wait fifty years and so released the thing early, to the whole school no less. _

_If you don't remember what you said, I'll take some pleasure in reminding you (that or you can look it up online seeing as this thing's gone viral apparently). You gave the people of the future some nice advice about how much marriage sucks and love isn't the answer. Personally I loved it, very angsty and dark, I'll give you a solid eight out of ten. _

_Other people like you spoke to the future generation, take Brooke for example, you'll definitely find that video online considering that she decided to share what God gave her with the next generation._

_Then there were some of us who were more caught up in ourselves, like, ahem, me. At first seeing myself talk about Jake and how happy we were was kind of depressing considering how he's gone now but the more I thought about, I realised that at least I had that, you know? I can look back and remember the good times and there it is on tape to prove that I had something that fantastic I wanted to share it with the world. I'm kind of lucky in that respect._

_Seeing other videos made me realise that, I guess. Take this kid Jimmy Edwards for example. Do you remember him? I didn't know him so don't worry if you don't either. His tape was really angry, I mean he beat you hands down for angst and you were pretty bitter and all. He's one of those kids who never found their place I guess - apparently he used to be friends with Lucas and Mouth actually but they slipped out of touch - anyway his whole recording was a rant about how everyone at school is a loser and no one's worth remembering._

_Of course everyone took offence because he basically bad mouthed the entire school but really he just seemed lonely. I mean if anyone understands being alone it's me. This year I've probably isolated myself a little but Brooke and Lucas have been caught up with themselves and I've had Ellie to deal with. It's probably my fault, I just tend to hide myself away when I have a lot going on, I think you understand that seeing as neither of us are talkers. You express yourself through basketball and I use music and art. Thank goodness we have those coping methods and each other to talk to or I could see myself in Jimmy's shoes, angry at the world for not caring enough. It was sad to see someone speak that way; so desperate and lonesome. I think it struck a cord with Lucas and Mouth as I saw them chasing to catch up with him earlier so hopefully they'll work some stuff out._

_Anyway, that's enough depressing stuff for one day._

_I've decided to properly take Ellie's advice on board and start living life. I've also been thinking about college and I'm starting to see that it might be a good avenue for me. Ellie seemed to think so anyway. _

_I bet you've scanned this whole letter waiting for me to mention the kiss. I'm right aren't I? Well, here goes nothing; I'm willing to give things another try, if you are of course. We've both grown up a lot in the past year and maybe we needed that, you know? All I know is that I miss you like mad when I'm not with you. I sound like a soppy mess! I think what I'm trying to say is, Nathan Scott, will you go out with me?_

_Speak to you soon,_

_Peyton._

_..._

_Thank you so much, you lovely, lovely people for reading. It's means the world. I know some of you who are reading this story are also writers, so you probably get how good it feels when people read/commnet on/appreciate your work; it's a powerful feeling. For those of you who don't write, just know that it means the world._

_And again I'm going to ask you to check out the forum, I'd love to get it going. If you don't have any prompts to add for your favourite pairing/characters, please just say hi. Any questions don't hesitate to inbox me, I will get back to you._

_http:/ forum. fanfiction .net /forum/Story_Prompts/107161/_

_Lexie :)_


	7. Chapter 7

_I'm glad you guys (kinda) liked the letter; Nate finding out that Peyton felt the same and what she thought of Jimmy's situation. It's one of the first parts of this story that I wrote. Icygold, one word: YES! I will message you! Mar, your peer pressure is too damn powerful! I'll keep you posted!_

_I'm not always the biggest fan of epilogues but I felt like Nate needed some closure rather than just that letter!_

_..._

_Don't look back in anger, I heard you say…_

I read a poem once, about a girl who had a crush on a guy that died. I think it was some kind of obligatory reading for English because I'm not a poem kind of guy. But for some reason it sticks in my mind. After the guy died, the girl imagined him up in Heaven with all the beautiful angels. And she was jealous. I think of Peyton in the same way sometimes, only she's with the badass angels. I see them hanging out in their black leather jackets, causing trouble. And yeah, I'm jealous as hell, just like the girl from the poem.

It's five years since I lost her. Five whole years and she's still the only girl in my heart.

And yeah, Sawyer, I know that makes me the lamest guy in the world but I know you're smiling as you think that. I can see that soft, delicate, and secretly delighted smile you always wore when you thought I wasn't looking.

It's taken five years but slowly I can see myself becoming the man Whitey promised I'd be.

It's been a hard journey, there's no denying that but I'm getting there. No one said this was going to be easy. There are good days, bad days and worse days. But I muddle through. I have more than my own strength pushing me on. I know I have hers too.

Five long years and yet I still remember the smallest of details, so fresh in my mind. It's almost impossible to believe that she's been gone for so long.

I could swear it was just yesterday that we were at the Classic cheerleading competition. I think back to her curving her slender arms around my shoulders and jumping on my back piggy-back style in a complete ambush. I can smell the light banana notes of her shampoo hitting my nostrils as her wild curls fall forwards against my face. And I can feel the light tickle of her breath as she laughs gloriously into my ear whilst I gather her legs and take her weight in my arms. I can place exactly where she slaps me on the shoulder playfully when I nearly drop her too.

It used to make me ache to think of that day. The last time that I saw her.

Now though I look back and realise that I wouldn't change a single thing about it. In fact I'm glad that our last memories together are of unparalleled happiness. It sounds cheesy, but it's true.

We woke up together after a night of tequila and the most perfect of chaste kisses. Somehow we nursed her hangover away and I watched her perform without putting a foot wrong. Then we spent the afternoon together teasing one another and trying to pretend that somehow we weren't both completely in love.

We never said those three words to one another. We weren't given the chance really. That haunted me for a while, to think that she might have left this world without knowing how I really felt. But when I finally built up the courage to take some of her things out of storage, she told me in her own perfect way that she'd known all along.

Her artwork, which I hadn't always appreciated fully, is the most powerful storyteller that I've ever known. In her collection are pieces depicting close to all of our meetings over senior year. From the tearful goodbye as I left for Oak Lake to the delicate kiss we shared in the hotel room at the Classic. A whole portfolio covering the progression of our relationship, sketchedin her trademark from-the-heart style. It is single-handedly the best gift I have ever received. Now some of the pieces hang in my house. Others I've kept just for my eyes.

In her own way she showed me that our relationship wasn't just the cusp of something that _should have been_ as I'd been regarding it.

It was more than that.

It was the thing that got us through the lonely days. Having each other meant knowing that we were never truly alone and that someone would always have our backs. We may not have had the chance for '_I love you'_s or any great shared life experiences. We may not have had the chance to wake up beside each other each morning, but we had something special. Something untouchable. It was the bond that I'm sure only comes from being soul mates.

It sounds clichéd and all but when you've been through something like I have, you stop caring about being a cliché. In fact you embrace it.

The idea that she's waiting for me, and I truly believe that she is, is the thing that keeps me playing this game of life.

It's hard sometimes, knowing that I have to live the rest of this lifetime without seeing her face or hearing her encouraging voice. But it's in those moments that I feel her the most. It's like Whitey said, they never leave us; the ones that we love stay with us.

Each time I hear a song with heartfelt lyrics by an unfamiliar artist, she's there rolling her eyes at my ignorance and moving delicately to the music. If I score a basket at a game, it's her voice that I hear over all others, shouting out my name in celebration.

If I'm having a bad day and it feels as though the world's on top of me, her presence reveals itself. It's like she takes a break from having fun with the badass angels to tell me that she's still there for me even though we're a whole world apart. That's the thing about Peyton, she never breaks her promises. Whenever I need her, she's there, just as she vowed to be all of those years ago.

Sometimes though, I like to be the one to visit her.

Whenever I'm back in Tree Hill I make a special effort to go and spend some time at the graveside with her.

I never thought I'd be the kind of person to be at ease with talking to a headstone, but I find it kind of calming. I'm pretty sure it's down to Peyton that I'm so comfortable with the one-sided conversations I have in the cemetery. I remember watching her do the same thing with her Mom. That memory of her crouching down and tracing her fingers over Anna Sawyer's name so lovingly showed me that there's nothing to be afraid of.

She showed me that it's not a place of ghosts, it's a place where the lost can always be found. It's a place to come if it feels as though the whole world has turned its back on you. It's a place where someone is always waiting, offering their ear to listen. Because I know that when I come here, she's perched on the edge of her heaven, pressing her ear towards the earth listening intently to every word.

It doesn't matter how idiotic the things I say are, and it doesn't matter what time of day or night. She'll always be here for me. There's an odd kind of comfort in that, to know that the girl I lost isn't really gone.

I crouch at her grave in the same way that she always did and I reach out with my fingers to graze the letters of her name. It may have been five years but still it brings a lump to my throat when I read the dates of her short life.

A part of me still lives in what could have been, and I'm sure a small part of me always will. I could spend days lost in the fantasy of how things could have been. Sometimes I allow my mind to wander through the picture of that perfect life together that we lost.

I see our college days together, and her in that cap and gown beside me as our parents proudly snap photos. I hear her excited cry as I reveal the news that I made the NBA and I feel her hot proud tears on my cheeks as she pulls me into a tight celebratory embrace. I picture waking up on lazy Sundays to her curled beside me. I feel her slender fingers laced through mine as we walk along the promenade. I can smell the hot cocoa and hear the crackling of a warm fire as I walk into our house to find her waiting with that gorgeous smile of hers.

But dwelling over it won't change a thing. She didn't graduate with me and she wasn't there to celebrate achieving my dream. On Sunday mornings I wake up alone, like every other day of the week. And I only go for runs along the promenade, so that I can pass by the loved up couples quickly. When I come home at night it's to a cold empty house. That perfect girl that should be by my side is somewhere else entirely.

That's the way it is though, no amount of wishing and hoping is going to change that. My girl was taken away from this cruel world. It's kind of nice to look at it in that way. Sure, I have to suffer not being with her, but if that means her never having to go through any pain again in this life then it's a small sacrifice. I know that wherever she is, she's content. I feel it in my bones. In fact I've never been surer of anything in my whole life; I feel it in her when she's around me.

Therefore I think I owe it to her to show that I'm content too. I don't have a bad life. I play ball for a living and my friends and family are all there for me when I need them. I guess the one good thing about losing Peyton was that it showed the rest of us how fragile life really is. It taught us never to waste a day. It pushed us to pursue our dreams and chase happiness. It's thanks to her that I'm playing in the NBA; that Brooke has a clothing line and that Lucas writes novels.

She's that strength behind us. If anything ever feels too tough, she's always there at the back of our minds proving that life's too short. Even in her death she's changing our lives for the better.

Somehow I don't think my girl will ever stop amazing me, even years down the line. It will still be her inspiring my slow, easy smiles.

I turn to the headstone before me, my gaze catching on the six carefully etched letters of her surname. The six letters I will always claim ownership of.

"Sawyer." I can see her shy smile building and her eyes hooding. It's been five years yet I can still picture her clear as day. She's kind of an impossible person to forget.

I smile at the headstone and cautiously glance to my right. I stare a moment at the little girl stood a few feet away from me before Peyton's voice cuts through my thoughts.

'_Finally replaced me then?' _her voice rings through my head, biting and sarcastic.

"Yeah, it's true." I say, as though it's not really a block of stone that I'm talking to. Instead I imagine her sat across from me, her green eyes glittering and her long legs spilling out teasingly.

I smirk her way and raise my eyebrows daringly, "I've got a new girl."

If I concentrate hard enough I'm sure I can hear her light laughter whispering in the breeze. She knows that she's irreplaceable. She knows that I'll never be able to find someone to fill the void she left.

"Liv." I wave my hand towards the girl stood by the willow tree, beckoning her over. "Come and say hi to your Aunt Peyton."

She walks slowly, in a stubborn kind of manner, reminding me of the blonde who's never far from my thoughts. I wonder vaguely how it is that Lucas and Brooke's daughter takes more after Peyton than either of her parents. I guess that Peyton herself had a hand in sending Livia to us, at least that's what I tend to believe.

"Livvy, come on," I push, trying to inspire some momentum into her skinny legs.

She flashes a milk tooth smile and runs into my open arms, nearly pushing me flat to the ground. It reminds me of the time that Peyton launched herself at my back and we nearly ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"Jeez, girl, where do you get the energy?" I ask, pulling her onto my lap playfully as she giggles and kicks.

We've already been to the park this morning where she managed to completely run rings around me. The rascal even made me wear a tiara. She's got that same power of persuasion that Peyton had, meaning that I can never say no to her. All she has to do is pout a little and flutter her lashes. And she knows it too.

"I eat mine porridge." She says and rolls her eyes. I have no idea where she picked that habit up from but I'm going to blame Peyton for it.

It could only have come from Peyt really, considering the amount of attitude Liv throws into the action, it's almost as though Peyton's there before me. The only difference being the colour of her eyes. Liv inherited bright blue eyes from Lucas.

"Yeah, you do, Goldilocks." I ruffle her dark blonde hair and she glares menacingly up at me. It's scary sometimes how much she reminds me of Peyton.

She huffs and runs her hands through her hair, "Don't, Uncle Nathan!"

"Okay, I won't." I tell her, knowing that later I'll do it again and she'll throw me that same scowl. "Now say hi to Peyton."

"_Aunt _Peyton." She corrects before picking a daisy from the grass and placing it at the foot of the stone. She knows the ritual of bringing flowers to the grave; she's been here enough times with Brooke.

I smile at how comfortable she is here. That's thanks to Brooke and Lucas for bringing her to see the honorary Aunt she never got the chance to meet.

She wriggles out of my grasp and takes a seat closer the headstone, curling her feet beneath her, "Hi, Aunt Peyton. Mommy said I gots to tell you, that she misses your skinny butt everyday."

She turns to me and giggles at the statement. I just smile a sad smile back at her.

I forget that Liv's not a baby anymore. When she looks back at me her big blue eyes are full of sadness. I can't trick her with fake smiles now.

"You miss Aunt Peyton?" She asks innocently, placing her little hand over mine.

"Yeah." I sigh. I don't think there'll ever come a day that I don't miss her.

Livvy smiles in a way that's wise beyond her years, "You know what I do when I'm sad?"

I frown slightly at her words, she's too young to have coping methods for sadness, way too young, "What makes you sad, Monster?"

She shrugs her slight shoulders, "When Mommy and Daddy fight."

I sigh largely. Usually Brooke and Lucas are pretty good at shielding Liv from any heated exchanges. They learnt from the mistakes of their own parents and know the damage it could do to Liv to see that. They both have crazy work schedules though and it causes inevitable friction. Brooke's always flying out to another fashion capital and Luke's forever adding that last date to a book tour. It's no wonder they have the odd disagreement. It's just a shame that Liv is aware of them.

"They don't mean to fight." I say in as soft a voice possible, "They just…"

"They get too _passionate_ 'bout stuff." She says, brushing the issue away.

"Passionate?" I echo, "Where did you learn that word?"

She looks at me with big blue eyes full of enviable innocence, "Aunt Peyton told me."

Her tone is matter-of-fact, stony even. She gives me an exasperated expression as though she knows that she's going to have to explain this one to me. I get the feeling that she's already had this conversation with some other bemused adult.

"Aunt Peyton?" I probe gently.

"I went to bed early 'cause Mommy and Daddy were getting shouty." She sighs, "And I sawed Aunt Peyton and she had a trampoline which was a cloud. So I knowed it was her."

I nod along like this all makes sense and choose to ignore her appalling grammar. I'll leave the scolding to her Aunt Haley; she's the English teacher after all.

"And I played bouncing with her. She's cool." Livvy shrugs.

My brow furrows in confusion, "And she told you that your Mom and Dad are passionate?"

"Yes!" She says fiercely as though she's tired of this story, "She gave me a juice box – I was hot 'cause of the bouncing – and she said Mommy and Daddy really care 'bout stuff and it's called _passionate_. Like when Daddy watches a game and he shouts when they lose."

"Right." I nod, casting a musing look to the grave before us, wondering.

"Why does no one _believe _me?" Liv protests angrily.

I catch her hand as she stands to leave, "I do, Livs, I believe you."

She narrows her blue eyes at me and spends a moment analysing my face for a sign that I'm lying, "You do?"

"I do." I assure her, gulping down the feeling that's rising in my throat, "I see her too."

"On the trampoline?" She asks innocently. "She said I bounced the highest ever."

I smile at the thought of Liv and Peyton having a bouncing competition, "I haven't been on the trampoline. I think that's yours and Peyton's special place. I see Aunt Peyton at basketball games, when I play."

Livvy frowns deeply, "Does she play ball with you?"

"No, Peyton doesn't play, she cheers for me." I feel a rush of relief at finally sharing my secret insanity with someone, even though my kind ear belongs to a kid. "I see her at every game. Sometimes I just catch her face in the crowd and other times she stays on the sidelines for the whole game, cheering my name loudly."

"I never sawed her." Liv challenges sceptically. She's been to watch me play a lot; in fact she's probably my biggest fan. A mini-bobcat in her own right.

"Well that's because it's my special time with Aunt Peyton." I explain, "She only lets me see her."

Livvy nods knowingly, "Oh, 'cause she's being an angel."

Sometimes, Liv is just too perfect. I smile and wink at the headstone. "Yeah, she's being my angel."

"Can we get ice-cream?" Liv asks, sweeping breezily onto a new subject.

We haven't been at the cemetery long but I know that Peyton will understand. I take Liv's little hand in my own and we walk along the winding path with her chattering about a butterfly she's just seen.

As we pass by some of the newer graves, I see a kid staring holes into a headstone. His pale cheeks are streaked with tears and his fists are curled at his sided. Every little bit of pain he's feeling stabs me two-fold.

My heart clenches when I realise what this moment is. It's the time that I have to step up and do what Whitey did for me. Livvy's staring up at me as though she knows something's up. She's too damn smart for her own good.

"Liv, I won't be long." I tell her, knowing that she'll understand.

She nods and I indicate to where she should wait for me, a few metres away from the anguished kid.

"Hey," I say as I approach the young boy. He looks about fifteen. So young.

His eyes flick quickly to me before locking back on the grave. I know that place he's stuck in.

"Who are you?" He questions in a low, empty tone. He probably doesn't care who I am, just that I'm intruding on his time.

"I'm you," I say simply. "Five years down the line."

He glances up at me with a confused, irritated and mildly curious stare, "What?"

"Five years ago I was just like you. I practically lived in this place. I couldn't see a future without her." I sigh at the memory of my own desperate self. "But here I am living it. It gets better; you have to trust me on that."

He blinks back at me uncertainly. I expect that I gave Whitey that exact same stare. I can almost taste his desperate hope hanging in the air. This kid may not be in any state to believe my words at this moment, he just needs to remember them in the back of his mind. He needs that edging assurance to slowly creep in so that in time he can begin to recover from this tragedy.

"You'll get there." I assure him, "Just know that it gets better, okay?"

He nods somewhat nervously and I wave to Liv to tell her that we're going. She bounds up and I lift her into my arms.

As we go to leave he calls out to me, "Hey, mister?"

I can feel his anxiousness, "You can ask me anything. Trust me, I've been to all the dark places."

"I'm scared," He cuts off as his voice breaks with emotion, "I'm scared of all sorts of things but most of all…"

He takes a deep shuddering breath and I see him blink back the tears.

"I'm scared that I'll forget."

I bob my head up and down sadly. I understand.

"You don't need to be afraid of that." I'm proud of the solid tone in which I assure him, because he needs to believe it's the truth. And it is. He'll never forget.

He releases a breath and I see what must be his attempt at a smile. Somehow, I know that he'll be alright. If I could get through it then he will too.

Once we're out of earshot, Liv whispers into my ear, "What was he scared of forgetting?"

"He thought that as he got older he might forget how much he loved that girl he lost." I tell her plain and simple. I don't think I've ever sugar-coated anything for Liv.

"But he won't?" She questions.

"Uh-uh." I touch her lightly on the nose and she giggles adorably. As we leave the cemetery, Liv notices her butterfly again. It's the most remarkable emerald green colour. We both watch as it flutters upwards, towards the cloud filled sky.

_And if the chance should happen that I never see you again, just remember that I'll always love you…_


End file.
